The Hunt Never Ends
The sky was a vast, frozen abyss.
Faye barely had time to register the sensation of flying before death came for her again.
The enemy riders were closing in—six of them, their dragons sleek and swift, built for pursuit. Not as powerful as the Frost Dragon, but faster and more maneuverable.
Faye's mind raced. She had never flown before. Never controlled a dragon. Yet here she was, clutching onto the ridges of an ancient beast, being chased through a storm by killers who had spent their entire lives hunting people like her.
No. Not people like me.
Only me.
The cold wind howled around her as she glanced down at the Frost Dragon's shimmering hide. Its scales were a glacial blue, jagged like shards of ice. Every inch of its body pulsed with raw, untamed power.
And for some reason, it had chosen her.
"I don't even know your name," she thought.
As if it had heard her, the dragon tilted its head, and in that moment, something shifted between them. A pulse of awareness. Not words, not quite emotions—but an instinctive, primal understanding.
They were not just rider and beast.
They were bound.
And together, they had to survive.
Faye's grip tightened as she turned her gaze forward. The enemy riders had spread out in a hunting formation, their dragons flanking her from both sides. They were forcing her into a trap.
"Think, Faye. You can't outrun them. You can't outfight them. What do you do?"
The Frost Dragon's wings beat once, sending them rocketing forward, but the enemy was relentless. Arrows cut through the air—thin, fast, tipped with something dark and unnatural.
Faye's instincts screamed. Dodge.
She shifted her weight—and the dragon moved with her.
The arrows missed by inches.
Another volley. She rolled her body left, and the dragon banked sharply. The ground tilted, clouds rushing past as they dove. Faye wasn't controlling the dragon—it was reading her movements, her instincts.
It was almost as if they were flying as one.
The realization sent a thrill through her, but she didn't have time to revel in it. The hunters had seen the maneuver and adjusted.
The lead rider, clad in dark silver armor, lifted his sword and pointed. A signal.
A second later, two of the pursuing dragons peeled away and looped around, cutting off her escape.
"Damn it."
One of the hunters dove toward her from above. A direct attack.
The rider swung his blade—aiming straight for her head.
She ducked, barely avoiding the strike, but another rider was coming from her flank, spear extended—
I have no weapon!
Her pulse pounded. She had nothing to fight with. No sword. No bow.
But she had the dragon.
And she had the storm.
"Move!"
The Frost Dragon twisted midair, its massive body spinning with unnatural agility. Ice crystallized in the air around them. The enemy rider's spear grazed past Faye's arm—too close.
Faye gritted her teeth. This isn't working. I need something more.
And then—she felt it.
The ice in her blood. The power buried deep inside her.
It surged forward, responding to her will.
Without thinking, she lifted her hand—and the storm answered.
A wave of frost exploded from her fingertips, a raw burst of uncontrolled magic. The air around them froze solid in an instant. The enemy rider's dragon shrieked as its wings locked mid-flight, its body encased in thick ice.
Then—it plummeted.
The rider screamed as his mount spiraled down, disappearing into the night.
Faye's breath caught in her throat. She had done that.
The remaining hunters hesitated. Just for a second. Just enough.
"Go."
The Frost Dragon roared, and they dived.
Into the Maelstrom
The storm thickened as they plunged into the clouds, the world vanishing into an endless swirl of snow and darkness.
Faye's heart pounded. She wasn't sure where they were going—only that they had to escape.
The hunters were still on their tail.
Four left.
Faye exhaled sharply, focusing. She couldn't use that magic again—not yet. It had taken too much out of her. Her hands were still trembling.
But she could use strategy.
She looked over her shoulder. The enemy riders had regrouped, weaving through the storm, trying to track her movements.
She couldn't fight them all.
"Then don't."
Faye leaned forward, lowering her body against the dragon's back. They had to break the formation.
"Faster," she murmured.
The Frost Dragon understood.
Its wings beat, faster, sharper. The wind screamed around them. Ice formed in the wake of their passing, mist curling in tendrils through the storm.
The world blurred.
One of the hunters lost track of them for just a second—a fatal mistake.
The dragon whipped around, twisting mid-flight, and slashed with its massive tail.
The impact sent the enemy dragon careening sideways, colliding into one of its allies.
Both spiraled out of control, crashing into the storm below.
Two down.
Faye's chest heaved. Two left. The strongest of the group.
They were closing in fast.
The lead rider wasn't making mistakes. He matched the Frost Dragon's movements with sharp, precise maneuvers. His dragon was darker than the rest, its scales an obsidian black with streaks of crimson. Its eyes burned like embers.
Faye met his gaze across the storm.
For a brief second, she felt it—the intent to kill.
No mercy. No hesitation.
This one wouldn't stop until she was dead.
Her pulse steadied. Then I won't stop either.
"We end this now."
She shifted her grip, leaning forward. The Frost Dragon responded.
The storm around them twisted into a vortex. The winds roared, a violent blizzard spinning into a cyclone.
And then—they turned.
Faye and her dragon dived straight toward their pursuers.
Head-on.
The enemy riders hesitated for half a heartbeat—and that was all she needed.
The Frost Dragon roared—and this time, it was not just sound.
A storm of ice erupted from its jaws.
A wave of raw, absolute cold engulfed the battlefield.
The lead rider had no time to react. His dragon's wings froze mid-flap. The black-scaled beast let out a strangled shriek—and then shattered into a thousand shards of ice.
The last rider, seeing his leader fall, turned to flee.
Faye did not let him.
The Frost Dragon surged forward, and with one final, decisive strike, its claws tore through the fleeing enemy's wings. The last hunter tumbled into the abyss below, vanishing into the darkness.
Silence fell.
The battle was over.
Faye let out a slow, shaky breath.
They had won.
But this was only the beginning.
They would come for her again.
And next time, they would not underestimate her.
The Storm Within
The night was still, but Faye's heart pounded like war drums in her chest.
The air around her shimmered with lingering frost, and the storm they had summoned was slowly dissipating. Shards of ice drifted through the air, glittering like shattered starlight. Below them, the land stretched into darkness—a vast, frozen wilderness where nothing stirred.
They were alone.
They had survived.
Faye's fingers curled against the dragon's scales. She could still feel the lingering pulse of magic thrumming beneath her skin, wild and untamed.
It had felt like power.
Like something that had always been inside her, just waiting to break free.
But now that the battle was over, she wasn't so sure.
Her body ached—her head throbbed with a sharp, pulsing pain. Her arms were weak, trembling from the effort it had taken to summon that storm. It hadn't been effortless. It had drained her, more than she realized in the moment.
That magic had a cost.
And if she wasn't careful, it would take everything.
She let out a slow breath, pressing her forehead against the dragon's back. The cold of its scales grounded her, sharp and real. It was the only thing that felt solid right now.
"What are you?" she whispered.
The Frost Dragon did not respond.
Not with words.
Instead, it descended.
Faye's stomach twisted as the world tilted, the dragon gliding downward through the thinning clouds. She wasn't sure where they were going. But the dragon knew.
It always knew.
The winds howled around them as they sank lower, weaving through jagged mountain peaks. Shadows stretched long over the ice-covered cliffs, and the air was thick with the scent of snow.
And then, suddenly—they broke through.
Below them was a valley.
A vast, glacial basin hidden between the mountains, its surface smooth and untouched.
A sanctuary.
The Frost Dragon landed in a swirl of powdery snow, its claws sinking deep into the ice.
Faye exhaled shakily. Her fingers were stiff as she pried them free from the dragon's ridges. Her whole body felt raw—like she had fought a battle both inside and out.
When she slid off the dragon's back, her knees nearly gave out beneath her.
She caught herself on the beast's massive forelimb, breath ragged.
"Weak."
The thought stung, but she pushed it away.
This wasn't weakness.
This was the cost of survival.
She forced herself to straighten, her breath visible in the frigid air. Her body protested every movement, but she ignored it. There was no time for pain.
She turned back toward the dragon, studying it properly for the first time.
It was massive—easily twice the size of the hunters' dragons. Its wings were long and jagged, lined with ice, its body built for endurance rather than speed. The patterns of its scales seemed almost alive, shifting subtly as the moonlight hit them.
And its eyes—
They were ancient.
Not just intelligent, but knowing. As if it had seen things that no living creature should have.
"You're the last one, aren't you?"
The dragon watched her for a long moment.
Then, it inclined its head.
Faye's breath caught. It wasn't a yes. It wasn't a no.
It was just truth.
The last Frost Dragon.
The only one of its kind still alive.
No wonder the hunters had been so desperate to capture it.
"And now they'll come for me, too."
She wasn't naive. The moment she had touched this dragon—the moment she had bonded with it—her fate had been sealed.
The entire world would be hunting her now.
But as she looked into the dragon's ancient eyes, she realized something else.
She wasn't just hunted.
She was chosen.
The Cost of Magic
Pain lanced through Faye's skull.
Sharp. Sudden. Wrong.
She stumbled, barely catching herself on a jutting rock. Her vision blurred. Cold spread through her limbs—not the natural chill of the mountain air, but something deeper. Something inside her.
"Damn it—"
She pressed a hand to her chest, gritting her teeth.
The magic inside her wasn't settling.
It was still raging, still wild—still demanding more.
Her fingers twitched. A faint shimmer of frost curled along her skin, creeping up her arms like veins of ice. It burned. Not heat—cold. So cold it felt like fire.
"Breathe. Focus."
She tried to steady herself, but the power didn't want to be contained. It wanted out.
"If I don't control it, it will control me."
The realization hit her like a physical blow. This wasn't just power.
It was a living thing.
And it was hungry.
Faye clenched her fists. The pain didn't fade, but she forced it into the back of her mind.
She couldn't afford to break.
Not now.
Not ever.
The Frost Dragon shifted, watching her carefully. It knew.
It had seen this before.
It had seen what happened to those who let their power consume them.
Faye swallowed hard, staring down at her trembling hands.
"This is what I am now."
A hunted thing. A living storm. A force that could barely control itself.
She should have been afraid.
Instead, she felt something else.
Determination.
If she was going to survive, she had to master this. Completely.
Not just the ice. Not just the storm.
Everything.
Because if she didn't—
She wouldn't last long enough to see what came next.
She took a slow, deliberate breath.
Then she turned back to the Frost Dragon.
"I need a name for you."
The dragon regarded her in silence. Then, finally, it let out a low, rumbling growl.
Something deep. Something ancient.
Faye listened, feeling the sound settle in her bones.
Then, she smiled.
"Talis."
The dragon's eyes flashed—and this time, she knew they understood each other completely.